


The Pirate Man (Wholock/Johnlock)

by EJfanfictions



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: wholockians, Crossover, Doctor Who and Sherlock, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Tenth Doctor Era, crossover fanfiction, wholock fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJfanfictions/pseuds/EJfanfictions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>—- “The Pirate Man”, a wholock fanfiction by E&J. John and Sherlock are having ‘troubles’ with their relationship and John moves out for a while, which Sherlock can’t really… Deal with. But then an old (childhood) friend of our consulting detective shows up… —-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fight

John was angry. Very angry. He was very, very angry. Standing in the middle of the living room, he adressed the only person who could be responsible for the acid holes in his favorite jumper and the slight smell of something burned coming from the curtains.

'SHERLOCK! OVER HERE, NOW!'

His boyfriend walked into the living room, dressed in one of his silky dressing gowns, looking extremely calm. It was annoying, tought John. How could Sherlock be  _so_ unaware of the fact that it was  _absolutely not good_ to burn holes in your partner’s clothes? _  
_

'Yes, John?' Sherlock yawned, and ruffled his hair whith his left hand while taking a sip of his coffee from the other. He walked over to John, and observed the not-so-brand-new-anymore jumper. 'Oh. Yes, I was actually planning on telling you that _after_ we had dinner.’ He walked into the kitchen, seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that John was almost fuming with anger. ‘Coffee?’

That was is it.

John spoke slowly, as he always did when he got angry. ‘Sherlock. Why did you do this?’ 

'Experiment!' Sherlock yelled from the kitchen. 'I had to know what type of acid gave what effect on certain kinds of cloth! Why? Something wrong?' He walked back, putting a cup of coffee on the table after John didn't acknowlege it's presence. Looking at the ruined jumper, he sighed. 'Didn't get the results I wanted, though. The curtains, on the ohter hand, were rather usefull.' He took another sip of his coffee. John was furious. Sherlock didn't understand. He furrowed his brow and thought. 'I don- No wait, I get it. You're angry with me. Why? It's just a piece of clothing…'

'Sherlock! This was brand new!' John yelled.

'Hmm. I can buy you a new one, if you insist.'

'What, you think that'd be it? Just buy me a new jumper and everything will be ok? That's not how the world works, Sherlock!'

'I don't  _care_  how the world works, John.’

'Sherlock, I think you got yourself a new record. Because in five days, you have succeeded in getting yourself arrested for a  _break in to a victim’s house_ , you almost  _killed me_ when you were shooting at the wall with your eyes closed, drugging your _landlady_ so you could _go to the movies with me-‘_

Sherlock mumbled something. _’_ You didn’t mind that at the time.’

'SHUT UP! And now you have ruined my favorite jumper!'

Sherlock sighed, dramaticly trowing himself on the couch and groaning ‘What does it  _matter?’_ as he trew pillow across the room, causing one of his many laptops to fall from the table.

'IT MATTERS BECAUSE-'

A scream, smothered by the couch. ‘OH FOR GOD’S SAKES, JOHN! It’s just a jumper!’

‘ _YOU WERE THE ONE WHO BOUGHT IT FOR ME!’_

_'I'LL BUY YOU A NEW ONE!'_

_'GODDAMNIT, SHERLOCK!'_

_‘_ WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, THEN?’ Sherlock jumped off the couch and hit the wall with his fist in frustration, back turned to John. ‘I don’t know what you expected when we started this- this… Relationship, but certainly you didn’t expect me to turn into your perfect Prince Charming!’

John was way too angry to think about what he was saying, let alone think about what Sherlock was saying. ‘YOU COULD TRY!’ 

Sherlock exloded. That was the best way to describe it. He threw his hand up in the air, faced John and screamed at him, his voice exploding like a dragon, filled with anger. ‘ _I’_ M A SOCIOPATH!’

'SOCIOPATH MY ARSE, YOU JUMPED OFF A BUILDING TO SAVE YOUR LANDLADY!'

'GO AWAY!' Roared Sherlock.

'FINE!' John grabbed his coat from the couch and ran away, slamming the door behind his back.

Oh.   
Sherlock didn’t expect that.   
No, he was mistaken.  
John wouldn’t leave.  
John wouldn’t do that, would he?  
Would he?  
You  _did_  ruin his present from your first Christmas together…  
People actually considered those things important?

No. Wait. Focus.   
John was leaving.

Sherlock opened the door to check if John was still downstairs. ‘John! WAIT!’ No reply. ‘JOHN!’

Sherlock rushed downstairs, yelling at Ms Hudson to go out of the way. Still in his bathrobe, he ran up the street. ‘JOHN! WAIT!’ Looking around, he saw John getting into a cab and soon out of his sight.

Too late.  
He was too late.  
John was gone.  
Gone.

He crashed down on the pavement.  
Ms. Hudson picked him up, dragged him into the kitchen upstairs, trying to talk to him. ‘He’ll get back Sherlock, I’m sure of it. No one needs you as much as he does.’ 

'Leave me alone.'

'Are you sure yo-'

'-I don't  _need_ anything! Leave me alone!’

So Ms Hudson scurried downstairs, leaving Sherlock to sulk in his chair.


	2. A very unnecessary wait

An hour passed, and Sherlock slept, curled up in his chair.

More and more hours passed, and Sherlock stared at his phone.

 _Where are you? -SH_ {Sent: 16.45 pm} _  
_ _Please come back. -SH_ {Sent: 18.28 pm} _  
I miss you. -SH_ {Sent: 20.24 pm}  
    _I know you can read my texts. -SH_ {Sent: 22:19 pm}  
    _I made you dinner. -SH_ {Sent: 23:12 pm}   
    _Please answer me. -SH_ {Sent: 23: 15}  
    _I love you. -SH_ {Canceled}

Finally, at 2 o’ clock in the morning, Sherlock got up from his chair and stumbled into the kitchen. He let out a sob, opened the fridge and inspected it’s content. An experiment involving a threehundred and twenty-two millilitres of blood, a jar of mayonaise, some lettuce… Boring, not what he was looking for. 

There, in the back of the fridge, 

A bottle of Palinka, strong Hungarian liquor. 45 percent. He only kept it there for emergencies. 

This was defintely an emergency.

He opened the bottle, not bothering to pick a glass from the counter. Straight from the bottle, he took a long gulp, spitting out half of the liquid in the sink. 

'Disgusting.' he muttered, and took another gulp. It burned in his troat, didn't even taste like anything. But the effect was nice. His head already started feeling fuzzy, ten minutes and one tenth of the bottle later, walking was getting hard. He tripped over his own feet, dropping the bottle on the kitchen floor, so it shattered to pieces. 

Swearing, he got up, not even considering cleaning it all up. John could go to fucking hell. Caring was not an advantage. Love is a human error, sentiment a chemical defect found on the losing side. He registered a framed picture of John and him on the mantlepiece, and picked it up. ’I never needed you anyways.’ he whispered to the picture. ‘NEVER!’ 

_DANG_

The sound of breaking glass when the picture hit the wall, more bangs when pulled out his gun and shot at the ceiling. ‘Fuck you!’  
He staggered into his room and passed out on his bed.

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

'Doctor?'   
Donna had just woken up, and she was reading a magazine in the control room. The Doctor stopped his fumblings with the machine, and looked up. ‘Yes?’  
'What's a Jalaphron?'  
'What the- They're an insectoid species who feed on misery. Why?’  
'This article says they've been on earth for centuries.'  
'Yes, they were. Then the cold war came and they began to starve. To prevent genocide, they started a missile war between Cuba and the Sovjet-Union.' the Doctor paused and smiled. 'I stopped them, with a… Friend. Nevermind. What the hell are you reading?'  
'Oh, nothing special.' She continued reading and the Doctor got back to whatever he was doing.

About an hour later, Donna was done reading and starting to get bored. ‘Are you ready yet?’  
The Doctor didn’t look up from his work. ‘Getting bored, are we?’  
'Starting to. What are you even doing? I bet it's just vainity for your machine.'  
'I'm not vain!'  
Donna snorted. ‘Sure.’  
'I'm looking for coördinates, very specific ones. I'd like you to meet someone. A good friend of mine.'  
'Where are we going? Who is he?'  
'That's the problem! I don't know! I'm going to tell you anyways, it's a surprise.'  
'You don't know who he is?'  
'No! I mean- Yes, of course I know who he is, but I don't know where to go.'  
'How can you not know where to go? You know  _everything_!’  
'Donna,  _please.’  
_ 'Fine, I'll shut up.'

Half an hour passed, and nothing happened, except for the Doctor to mutter under his breath and Donna asking questions about where they were going.  
'Who is it?'  
'It's a suprise.'  
'Male or female?'  
'Male.'  
'Old?'  
'Not as old as I am.'  
'Nobody is as old as you are. What does he look like?'  
Finally, the Doctor looked up and sighed. ‘You’re really not getting the concept of ‘surprise’, are you?’  
'Hm. Is he clever?'  
The Doctor laughed. ‘Oh yes, very.’  
'Nice?'  
A humming noise, and then silence. After a while: ‘To some people.’  
'To you?'  
'Most of the time.'  
'To me?'  
'Well…'  
'You're not even sure if he likes you.'  
'I don't know. I really don't know. He's very… Picky. Unpredictable.'  
'Picky?'  
'Yeah.'

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

The evening after his- Whatever it was. Accident? 

The evening after his accident, Sherlock woke up with a massive hangover. His throat felt dry, his head bounced like there was a drill working inside and there was a stinging pain in his chest. He heard Ms. Hudson singing in the apartment. Way to loud, of course.

He walked into the living room, still dressed in the clothes he was wearing when John left.

That was real.

Shit.

Ms Hudson was dusting in the kitchen, carefully avoiding any of Sherlocks experiments. The broken bottle was gone, meaning that she knew what happened.

Shit. 

He slumped down in his chair, sighing deeply. Ms Hudson didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence. Good.  _I hope she stays this way._  
No such luck.  
'Sherlock, what have you done?'  
He sighed again. ‘I’m fine.’  
'Oh, Sherlock…' She walked over to to him, and stroked his hair. 'I'm so sorry.'  
'Leave me alone.'  
'I saw-'  
'I know, go away.'  
'But y-'  
'GO AWAY!'  
Ms Hudson let out a suprised yelp, and went downstairs. She knew better than disagreeing with a hungover Sherlock Holmes. 

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

Meanwhile, the Doctor was still looking for his precious coördinates. It took way too long for Donna, and she was way to curious about whatever what was going on to shut up for longer than fifteen minutes.  
'What year are we going?'  
'I don't know.'  
'Ok, I'll try again. What year are we going?'  
’21st century.’  
'What planet?'  
'Donna, it's a surprise!'  
'What planet?'  
'Earth.'  
'Who are we visiting?'  
'You will find out!'  
'Who are we visiting?'  
'You'll find out!'  
'Fine.'

_*-Twelve minutes later-*_

'Are we ready yet?'  
'No.'  
'What is the problem? I thought all we needed were coördinates?'  
'I, eh-'  
'What?'  
'Well, I found them, and- I wrote them down-'  
'YOU LOST THEM?!'  
'Yeah.'  
'And you're sure that you can't find them.'  
'Yeah.'  
'And you searched everywhere.'  
'Of couse I did! I'm not-'  
'And of course you're sure that you didn't wrote them down on a post-it that you sticked to the screen.'  
The Doctor started a response, but Donna shushed him and stood up from her chair. She walked over to the screen, and plucked a yello post-it note from it. ‘ _You_   _are such a child._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ——New chap, yaay! They still haven’t met. *cough* procastination *cough*. I hope you like it anyways, and thanks so much for reading! Leave your toughts in our askbox! We love you, and share this, if you’d like!  
> Also, there’s a thing I’d like to ask. What about reviews? Would you like reviews? (I think I’d like to write them, and it’s a good excuse to read fanfiction.) Good, I’m going to work on the next chapter of Finding Love and Language now. So long and thanks for all the fish! -E&J——-


	3. THIS STORY IS DISCONTINUED

Hello.

This is a letter, from me as writer to you as a reader. This letter will be uploaded as a chapter for all of our works.

I'm not continuing this story, at least not for now. The last time I've even looked at it is over half a year ago, and since then I've changed a lot. As writer, but also as a person. I feel like I've grown apart from E. I don't know how she feels about it, but for now I'm leaving these stories behind.  
I'm still writing, but on another account and (hopefully) a lot better. One of the reasons I'm not going to continue writing this is because I can't look at it without cringing. The spelling is terrible, the storytelling is appalling and the characters are ooc.   
Another reason why I'm discontinuing this, is because the writing in general reminds me too much of a person that I used to be. I am not that person anymore, and I however I am proud of growing as a human being, I don't want to be reminded of what I was. Tell me when you find out why, okay?

I know I promised to not give up on this. I know, I know, I know. And you know what? Who knows what the future may bring, maybe I'll be rewriting all of this in a year or a month. I don't think so though, because it's literally the worst fucking thing I've ever made like. I did enjoy this little while though, and thank you for that. Okay, I'm off to write the first thing for my new account, [query_dies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/query_dies). 

If you want to keep up with the rest of my life and unhealthy obsessions, my tumblrs are danieljamesisnotonfire (a youtube blog - mostly phandom), my-own-writing-spot (everything I want to remember about writing) and watson-jawn-watson (personal and remaining fandoms). 

 

Julia


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